


Am I Beaten, If I Believe In Us

by KHart



Category: Descendants (2015), Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/pseuds/KHart
Summary: A collection of Malvie prompts that I have filled from Tumblr and here.If you wish to send me a prompt on Tumblr, my name is flairfatale.Feel free to send as many as you'd like!





	1. Choosing Good Is Never Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mevie 51 58 67 91!
> 
> Ok, so I’m pretty sure you wanted separate pieces for each number, but I wanted to challenge myself and write them all into one? I hope that’s okay, and that I did it justice. Thank you so much for your suggestions! I appreciate you and all that you do.
> 
> Established Malvie ahead, where Mal left because she was feeling overwhelmed by the pressures of being good after saving everyone in Auradon from her mother and also because she was feeling like everyone wanted something from her. Her and Ben remained friends after their break-up, hence why he still came to the Isle with the rest of them; He is still the one who got captured.
> 
> Warning: Y’all this got so long. Like so, so long. I don’t even know how good it turned out to be, but here we go.

 

Look, Evie knows that it’s her fault.

Truly, she does.

After all, it _was_ _she_ who committed one of the biggest crimes in combat by taking her eyes off of her opponent, and it _was_ _she_ who disregarded all of her conditioning and knowledge of the Isle’s ways and ways of fighting by doing so.

She had gotten distracted _too easily_ , and she had gone against the very first lesson she had learned from Jay—the one he taught her when they were much younger and in more consistent danger.

“ _Never take your eyes off of your enemy, Eves,”_ he had told her, as he wrapped a protective arm around her slender shoulders and led her away from the alley she had been shoved into. _“Because whatever you’re lookin’ at instead of them will be the last thing that you see._ ”

She had nodded with a thankful smile that wavered only slightly upon her lips, and she had vowed silently to herself then and there that she would follow that rule her whole life—which was a decision that would come to save her and her friends many times later on in life, both _on_ the Isle and off.

 _Keep your eyes open_ , she would repeat to herself in her head, like a mantra, _keep your ears open, never lose track of, or focus on, what you’re up against_.

It was almost as engrained into her as her mother’s lessons of beauty were.

She became the most observant of the core four; Her eyes were almost _always_ moving about their surroundings, moving across her friends’ facial features and postures and movements, to try to detect anything close to a problem.

She became the most observant, and so being caught off-guard was not something that happened to her often; It just _wasn’t_ …

And, _yet_ , Mal had managed to do so in the most painful of ways.

Mal had managed to act fine, and she had managed to allow Evie to believe she was because she knew that Evie was so in love with the fact that _they_ could finally be in love peacefully, without any façades to keep up or parents to keep satisfied.

And it was true; Evie had loved the fact that she could be as soft and as loving and as sincere as she had always wanted to be with Mal, and so she was blinded to the fact that Mal wasn’t as happy as she was.

When Mal left, with a hastily written note left behind and the return of the necklace Evie had gotten for her oh so many years ago, Evie _had been_ caught off-guard, and she had been crushed, and her whole world had been thrown off balance.

She lost her edge, her ease with words and actions.

She realized she lost _Mal_ , and _that_ was what made her seem to forget anything other than _find her, apologize, get her back, make sure she’s safe, make it up to her, never let her go._

The need to return the other girl safely, without harm, to Auradon, was all she could focus on, and all she could feel in her gut other than the cold pit that grew with each second Mal wasn’t by her side, and so she went about her plans and actions haphazardly and without finesse.

Because she was just so sure that when Mal saw her again, she would come back. She was so sure that if she apologized and promised that she would never put pressure on Mal again that Mal would agree and walk into her open and aching arms.

She was _so_ sure, but then, suddenly, Mal was in front of her, and she wasn’t saying ‘ _I love you_ ’ back, and she didn’t want anything to do with Evie anymore at all.

And Evie had almost staggered backwards from the sheer weight of the rejection landing on her chest so fully.

She had swallowed against the lump within her throat, and she had blinked against the burn of the tears in her eyes.

“Mal, please—.”

“Just _go_ , Evie,” Mal said, without sympathy, turning her back on her fully. “Don’t come back. You don’t belong here. We both know that.”

Evie felt her grip on the last of her sanity start to slip, and she felt her stomach drop out of her, and if she hadn’t walked back down the stairs to discover that Ben—sweet, _sweet_ Ben, who didn’t have to come to get Mal back with her but did anyway—had been kidnapped, she probably would’ve been swallowed whole by the intensity of the heartbreak cracking through her chest.

But she wasn’t, because she couldn’t let it take her—not then, not when Ben needed her; It would have to wait until they were back in Auradon once more.

It would have to wait, and she would have to keep it at bay until then, and so she clenched her jaw and tightened her trembling fingers into fists and told her tears to suck it up.

She raised her head high, schooled her facial expression into something cooler and less feeling.

A plan was made, a plan was carried out, and then Evie found herself engaged in a sword fight with a bunch of pirates as Mal battled the leader of them, Uma, a couple hundred feet away.

And, yes, Evie _did_ have faith in Mal and her fighting skills, but it was also _Uma_ that the girl was fighting, and so, though she had been holding her own well, Evie couldn’t seem to make herself do the same when it came to fighting the way her gaze kept flitting over to their struggle anyway.

Because Mal’s voice was almost overwhelmingly loud in her ears, even above all of the clanking and clashing of metal against metal.

Because Mal’s movements were all she could see, despite the volatile pirate just in front of herself, lunging and leaping in her direction every few seconds.

Because Mal is the _only one_ she can ever focus on, and since it was no different just because they were fighting for their lives, her foe took full advantage of that fact as soon as her gaze had moved to the other girl for the first time.

He had flourished his sword in one swift movement, and she hadn’t been able to make it out in her peripheral vision in time, so then the blade had come at her quickly—almost too quickly to even be felt immediately upon contact, really.

It had slashed through the fabric of her jacket and shirt easily, and it had sliced the smooth skin just between her sixth and seventh ribs deeply enough to send a white-hot and jolting sensation of pain through her entire body, leaving her fingertips tingling and her eyes seeing spots.

She had yelped sharply, and her head had snapped back to attention just in time to watch a triumphant smirk lift a corner of the man’s thin lips; Amusement glinted maliciously within his blue eyes as her gaze became hardened and cold.

Her adrenaline kicked up a notch and flooded her veins with its numbing intensity, and the feeling of it thrumming through her and pounding in her ears made her completely forget about her injury.

“Oh, the princess didn’t like that one, did she?” he taunted with a high-pitched cackle.

He raised his eyebrows at her, and an abrupt growl slipped through her lips in response just as she charged at the man without any more distractions penetrating her thoughts.

He staggered back, surprised at her newfound aggression, but then he smirked again, and the fight was back on—on another level entirely.

And from then on, it was all a blur of swords clashing and hands glancing off of arms and backs and faces, and she didn’t even _know_ how long it was before Jay and Lonnie took off to go start the car.

A few more minutes passed by hazily before she called for the last smoke bomb, and then, again, some slipped away as she used it to create the perfect distraction and make her escape, along with everyone else.

Her feet were now heavy in their steps and she ran through the drainpipe without real awareness for anything other than how _hard_ her heart was beating against her ribs.

Her legs felt as if they were made of gelatin, and with each second that she was upright, they felt as if they weakened underneath her weight.

Breathing heavily, her chest heaving and her head hurting, she practically threw herself onto the limo’s seats when she made it inside the vehicle.

Her ears were still ringing, and her limbs were aching, and her cheekbone was smarting from the blow that the pommel of the man’s sword had struck.

All around her, everyone was releasing relieved sighs, but the tension didn’t truly leave _her_ muscles until she knew they were through the barrier and crossing over the sea once more towards Auradon; It was only _then_ that she released a heavy  breath and brought her arm up to clutch at her cramping side.

She inhaled raggedly, and allowed her eyelids to slide closed as her heart-rate slowed. A few seconds passed peacefully, as everyone else seemed to do the same as her, but the reprieve was short-lived, because, suddenly, her fingers brushed against the wound she’d totally forgotten about, and all of the pain she had experienced so briefly upon its creation came flooding back in a single, overwhelming moment, causing her to inhale so sharply that it caught the attention of all of the limo’s occupants.

She had drawn her limb away as if it had been lit on fire, and _that’s_ the action that led to her state of being right now, which is gulping thickly against the sudden lump within her throat and under the sudden weight of her friends’ gazes on her.

“Evie?” Ben questions, curious and cautious, green eyes gazing at her from his seat on the other side of the limo. “What’s the matter?”

Evie shakes her head a little, trying to straighten her posture and look more presentable through her pain; They have enough to worry about right now, it’s just a small cut.

“Nothing,” she answers just to prove that fact. “I’m fine.”

Ben continues to look at her, unconvinced, and she can almost _feel_ the way that Mal’s eyes narrow at her.

“Why is your jacket ripped?” Carlos questions scooting closer just a little and then leaning forward just a little bit more.

She glances down just briefly as if noticing it for the first time.

“Oh? I don’t know. Maybe it got caught on something.”

She shrugs, but it causes the discomfort in her torso to intensify, and so, of course, she instantly hates herself, because she’s not fast enough in masking its effects on her facial expression.

The jig is up; Mal is by her side in an instant, and Evie honestly doesn’t have the energy to move with enough speed to stop her from unzipping her jacket.

So, in the next second, the t-shirt she’s wearing underneath is exposed, and along with its display comes the sight of the deep and definitely bleeding laceration marring the usually smooth and fair skin of her side.

She exhales a heavy breath just as Carlos’s own catches in the back of his throat beside her; Her shoulders slump, and she leans further into the cushions at her back, and she allows him to take her right hand in his left.

She chuckles weakly, looking to him, then Mal, then Ben, and then Mal again.

“It’s my fault, honestly,” she breathes out, a mirthless sort of smile on her lips. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

She shifts slightly in her position, as best as she can, and she tries to ignore the way that Mal is staring at her so acutely, with such strong concern, by glancing down to the girl’s collarbone and blinking at the tears threatening to burn her eyes.

That heartbreak she had been doing so well in repressing starts to rise up, and she finds that the air is suddenly too thick to breathe in as it begins to fill her lungs. Her fingers start to shake again, and she knows—she knows, she knows, she _knows_ —that if she doesn’t get Mal to stop looking at her in the same way, with the same softness, that she used to, all of her walls will drop and the dam will break, and her tears will flow.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, that will get the other girl away from her but she doesn’t form the right order of syllables in time.

 “ _Lucifer_ , E,” Mal breathes out before her, her hands hovering over Evie’s body, at a loss of what to do with themselves. “You should’ve told us about this earlier. You should’ve let someone know you were hurt while we were still fighting, and we would’ve gotten you out of there.”

Some of Evie’s sorrow morphs itself into something sharper, more bitter, at the girl’s words, and she lets the feeling of it twist her lips into a frown and furrow her eyebrows into a scowl.

“Well, what was I supposed to do, _Mal_?” she spits, a little more venomously than intended. “Tell everyone to take a timeout in their own fighting just because I got injured in mine? _No_.” She lifts her nose some. “Getting hurt was a risk that everyone was in, and I wasn’t going to be the cause of anyone’s injury but my own.” She lifts a weak hand to wave dismissively. “It’s not even that bad. So, you can stop acting like you care.”

The hollow of Mal’s collarbone deepens as the girl inhales slowly and just a little unsteadily in an attempt to keep her calm; Evie watches her jaw clench and unclench a few times as silence envelops them, and she finds that, even now, she wants to take the girl into her arms and tell her that she’s sorry.

Luckily, Ben speaks up before she can do so and make an even bigger fool of herself.

“You’ve got to—um—you’ve got to put something on that,” he says. “Here, take my shirt.”

Evie’s eyes slide closed at some point, and they only reopen when the warm fabric of Ben’s shirt is being pressed firmly into her wound by familiar hands.

She blinks a little sluggishly at Mal’s face.

“I’m sorry,” the girl says lowly then. “I should’ve watched out for you more. I shouldn’t have been so focused on what was directly around me.”

Evie shrugs again, this time more faintly and with less movement. She waits for a few seconds, watches as Mal tends to her wound as best and as carefully as she can, and hates how she can feel herself soften at the sight.

She sighs.

"You were fighting your battle, just as we were all fighting ours. I should’ve been paying attention. It’s not your fault."

Mal’s eyes meet hers again, so green and suddenly regretful, and Evie feels something in her chest tighten.

Their words linger in the air, heavy with double meaning and sincerity, but after only a few moments Evie breaks their eye contact, because just as _these words_ ring within her ears, she remembers the other ones Mal had spoken to her so spitefully only a few hours ago.

She glances down to her side, and she almost cringes at the sight of her t-shirt, which was at one time so perfectly and intentionally destroyed-looking, but is now too _utterly_ and _actually_ destroyed to be fashionable ever again.

“Ugh,” she moans quietly, her head lolling back against the cushion of the seat. “ _There’s so much blood_. There’s no way that it will come out enough for me to wear this shirt again.”

Carlos squeezes her hand reassuringly as he scoots closer.

“ _Do you think it’ll lighten up soon?_ The bleeding?”

The question was directed at Mal, who, in reply, just shakes her head lightly in thought and bites down on her bottom lip in the same way that usually drives Evie insane.

“I’m not sure, but I know that we need to get back to school soon, because this shirt is soiled and of no use now.”

Evie does her best not to move in any type of way that will intensify the throbbing pain in her side, but as Mal removes the soaked fabric of Ben’s shirt from where it had been pressed so firmly there, she groans lowly and curls into herself just a little out of instinct.

“I’m sorry,” Mal whispers. “I’m sorry.” Evie clenches her jaw. “Carlos, give me your shirt.”

Even though her eyes have closed again, Evie knows that he follows Mal’s instructions immediately; The air beside her shifts, his hand leaves her own, dryer fabric takes the place of the ruined kind that just left her.

She muffles her groan better this time, but, even still, it’s almost deafening in the silence.

The mechanical sound of the partition being lowered pricks into the ringing of Evie’s ears just slightly, for a few seconds, but after it’s stopped, the noise in her ears returns and drowns out the low voices speaking to one another in hurried tones.

She can’t really seem to focus on _anything_ other than her worsening state—on anything other than how her chest feels weighed down, and how her head feels lighter; How her breathing is, somehow, a lot more ragged than it was during the fight, and how her concentration is even more fleeting than before.

Her limbs feel heavy, and the very tips of her fingers are starting to go numb, and she can’t bring herself to stop the mirthless chuckle that pushes at her lips abruptly. 

“Ya know,” she breathes out, her tongue slurring just a little against the syllables. “If you had asked me to imagine a way I’d go out, bleeding out in the back of the royal limo would not have even made it to my top _fifty_ guesses.”

“You are _not_ going to bleed out,” Mal snaps, rushed and resiliently certain. “It’s not that bad. You’re going to be fine.”

Evie hums lightly, but she doesn’t argue.

The vehicle pulls to a stop just a minute later.

Her eyes flutter open, and she blinks for a few bleary seconds before zoning in on Mal’s features hovering before her.

“Can you walk, E, or does Ben need to carry you?”

“‘M fine to get up,” Evie answers resolutely, gritting her teeth and steeling her nerves.

She pushes at, both, Mal’s and Carlos’ hands, albeit a little clumsily, before leaning forward in preparation to get up.

The pain in her side strengthens, and it slices through her entire chest with a heat that just _has to be_ similar to that of lightning or something.

Her breath catches in the back of her throat as she sways some, and her eyes squeeze themselves shut again as swirling streaks of color flash to life against the backs of her eyelids.

“Okay, no, you’re not,” Carlos says. “Ben.”

Not even a full second slips by before strong and overly careful arms are assisting her into the most comfortable position they can manage, and so Evie just sighs heavily and lets all of her remaining strength seep from her bones by leaning her entire weight on top of Ben’s body and practically deflating in his arms.

And though, somehow, through some miracle, Ben maneuvers his way out of the limo with as minimal pain as possible, Evie still begins to feel as if everything is becoming just a little too much to handle.

She whimpers lightly as she presses her face further into his collarbone, just as familiar fingers find their way into the soft strands of hair at the top of her head in the next moment; She’s so exhausted—emotionally, mentally, and physically—that she doesn’t even have the energy to flinch away.

In fact, she nearly _melts_ into Mal’s touch, as goosebumps raise the hairs on her arms and send a shiver down her spine that’s almost violent enough to increase the aching in her abdomen.

“We’ve got to take her to the infirmary,” Ben says, his voice rumbling through his chest lowly and vibrating through Evie’s cheek. “She needs professional help.”

“And what are we supposed to tell them? We can’t just say that she got injured in a swordfight over the king’s life,” Jay says, the reluctant voice of reason. “The wound is too deep to be covered by a superficial lie.”

More voices continue to go back and forth in response to one another, but Evie blocks them out in favor of reveling in the feel of the fingertips stroking soothingly at her scalp.

She knows, logically, somewhere deep in the back of her brain, that her eyes need to be open, that she needs to be more focused on the sounds of her surroundings; But she just feels so _weak_ , so _tired_ , and she doesn’t think that she can really put up much of a fight against the strong tug of unconsciousness that’s beginning to grow more insistent at the edges of her mind.

The fingers suddenly shift, and then a palm is resting against the top of her head, and a presence is right near her shoulder, leaning over her.

“Evie,” Mal’s voice calls down to her gently. “Eves.”

“Hmm?” Evie hums faintly in acknowledgment.

“You’ve got to stay awake for me, babe,” Mal tells her quietly. “Open your eyes for me, please.”

Evie doesn’t know if she can, but she tries; She always tries for Mal.

Her eyelids flutter for a few seconds in their fight against her compliance, but eventually she wins out, and her glazed over irises are focusing on Mal as best they can.

The lines of the girl’s face are a little blurred and her features aren’t as distinct as Evie would like them to be, but she’s still as beautiful and as breathtaking as ever—which actually turns out to _not_ be a good thing since Evie’s still having such a hard time trying to get oxygen into her lungs.

“There you are,” Mal whispers, a small and sad smile on her lips that doesn’t light up her eyes like Evie wishes it would. “Don’t go anywhere, alright? You’re not allowed to leave me, okay?”

Evie wants to ask, ‘Why not?’ Evie wants to point out that Mal left _her_ just a few hours ago. Evie wants to hate the other girl for all of this and blame her for the pain she’s in.

But she can’t, and so she doesn’t.

She, instead, grins weakly in return and tells the truth.

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, love,” she says. “No place I’d rather be than with you.”

Mal’s bottom lip wobbles dangerously, and that same sense of regret drags her lips downwards into a frown, and though Evie absolutely _loathes_ the sight of it, she is completely lost on how to make it go away.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Mal reassures, herself more than Evie it seems. “I promise.”

Evie nods.

“I trust you.”

So, Mal nods too, resolutely, and then she turns just slightly to give out a set of instructions that Evie can’t hear just because she’s so busy watching the way Mal’s lips move as she forms her words.

Suddenly, _they all_ start to move, but Evie doesn’t even notice until Mal’s hand slips away from her head and she finds herself missing the contact.

“M?” she breathes out, low and rasping, her bloodstained fingers reaching out weakly.

“I’m here,” Mal promises her, catching up to Ben’s quick stride and holding onto Evie’s hand. “I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

Evie tries to look at her more fully, she tries to struggle against the drooping of her eyelids—she tries, she tries, she tries.

“You promise?” she asks, just as she fails.

“I promise,” is the last thing she hears before the darkness consumes her vision and kills her awareness of the world around her.

\---

When Evie begins to stir awake, the atmosphere around her is quiet and subdued.

The sound of rain pattering against the glass pane of the window by her bed is steady and calming in its rhythm, and it’s instantly soothing in the way that it breaks the silence of the space with its gentle consistency.

The air she’s breathing in is cool and refreshing against her cheeks and in her lungs, as she yawns.

She brings a hand up slowly to wipe at her face, and then feels a twinge of delicate discomfort nag at the insides of her chest when she shifts just a little bit more.

Her eyebrows crinkle faintly as she swallows and smacks her lips, and then they furrow _fully_ as she notices _just how_ _horribly_ _dry_ her mouth is.

Some of the comfort and haze of her blissful awakening starts to fade, and she tries to tilt her head some and take a deep breath to calm her quickening heartrate, but her neck feels too stiff and _something_ is wrapped so uncomfortably tightly around her torso that she feels like she’s suffocating; It’s restricting her movements and her breathing, and it’s urging her to open her eyes and see just what is going on and where she is.

And she tries. She _tries_ to look around. But her eyelids won’t come apart.

It’s as if they’re glued shut, bound by some sort of magic to never open again, and with each new second of her struggle against its influence, Evie can feel her anxiety start to rise within her throat, choking and cruel and merciless in how it takes her breath away.

She tightens her grip on the comforter covering her body and swallows hard out of the fear that she’ll actually end up passing out again from panic.

The few seconds that still continue to pass are almost unbearable, and she’s just about to cry out in frustration, in fear, when, suddenly, her eyelids snap apart.

Her body deflates; She breathes out heavily in relief and then blinks blearily and waits for the darkened corners and edges of the room to come into focus around her.

The familiar shapes and objects of her and Mal’s dorm come into view, and the sight causes the crease in between her eyebrows to deepen, especially when she sees that she’s the only occupant of the room.

She releases another slow breath, this time shakier, and she swallows again, around the lump in her throat, this time more thickly.  

Mal’s voice reverberates through her head—within her aching chest; _“I promise.”_

Mal’s voice taunts her with the words she had said when Evie asked if she would stay, if she wouldn’t leave; _“I promise.”_

Well, “ _I promise_ ,” doesn’t seem to be much of a promise at all these days, Evie is discovering.

A sad scoff, another crack in a broken heart, another trembling of her bottom lip.

The sereneness of the quiet is gone entirely now; The solitude is no longer calm,  and the rain is no longer curing her of her anxiety.

Her gaze jumps hopelessly around the empty room, and her heart seems to drop even further into her stomach with each passing second.

Because when she pauses to consider how fiercely protective and strongly attached she and her friends are of and to one another, she can’t find the reasoning there could be behind her waking up alone, without any of them near.

There _is no_ logic behind her waking up alone, actually, because her friends are so wonderful and so concerned about her always, that she knows they would be here at all times of the day to make sure she’s okay.

They would never leave her here on her own, after such an injury, and so Evie starts to doubt if any of what happened was real; Evie starts to wonder if maybe, _maybe_ it was all just a horrible, _terrible_ dream.

Evie starts to think that _maybe_ Mal will come through the door any second and tell her she’s been sick with those fevers that make people live their worst nightmares, which, yeah, isn’t good at all. But then Mal will brush the hair from Evie’s eyes and kiss her eyebrows and cheekbones and forehead and tell her that she’s okay now.

She’ll climb into bed with Evie and wrap her arms around her and tell her that she loves her more than she’ll ever know, and Evie will finally be able to forget the way it felt to have her heart crushed by the sole person who promised to never let that happen.

Evie will forget, and Evie will be okay, because maybe it _was_ all a nightmare. Maybe the fevers had somehow hacked into the most secure parts of her mind and played on her worst fears.

Maybe Mal still loves her and wants to stay; Maybe Mal still wants to say ‘I love you’ in that soft voice she’s always reserved for her only.

_Maybe, maybe, maybe._

That’s all Evie’s head is filled with as she lies in silence; _Maybe, maybe, maybe_.

_Maybe—_

Her muscles twitch abruptly, sending a sharp pang of discomfort reverberating through the bones and muscles and nerves of her torso and leaving her _very_ suddenly aware of the reason that her abdomen has been so constricted this whole time; There’s bandaging wrapped around her, and it’s still too tight, and she’s going to suffocate.

She almost gasps for air, as she learns that moving to sit up sends an almost blinding shot of pain through her chest.

She stills immediately, and her spine tingles as continues to try to catch her breath—as she begins to try to handle the way her stomach clenches in the realization that all that had happened was real, _is real_.

The realization that Mal _had_ really left, Ben _had_ really been kidnapped, _she_ _had_ really been injured herself.

The realization that she _really is_ still alone right now despite it all.

The realization that she’s alone in her bed, with an injury that had almost killed her, and the realization that her friends _are_ actually nowhere to be seen, which _definitely_ hurts more than the swipe of a blade across her skin ever could.

There were no fevers, and there are no soft hands to wipe away the emotional tears that have now sprung up to burn her eyes and cheeks with their heat, so she has to blink at them hurriedly herself, as she wracks her mind for any information that will prove valuable in locating her people.

She sniffs.

“ _Think, Evie_ ,” she whispers hoarsely to herself. “Where could they be?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, casts her gaze unseeingly along the dark blur of the top of her bed, moves her restless legs just slightly.

Her fists clench and unclench just as a lightbulb goes off in her head.

“The cotillion!” she exclaims. “Of course!”

They’re all at the cotillion; They _have to be_.

It’s an event far too important to disregard; Doing so would’ve risen suspicions that they couldn’t afford to lie about, and Ben’s parents would’ve hunted Ben down like sharks on blood if he was a no show—along with the lady of the hour, Audrey.

Had they not gone, it would’ve been a complete disaster, and their weekend activities would’ve been entirely exposed, which would have _then_ resulted in near permanent detention, suspension, or expulsion.

They couldn’t risk it.

Evie almost laughs a little at the feeling of relief that lightens some of the heaviness in her veins, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she opts for glancing over to the clock on her bedside table to see just how late it is into the event and how long she’ll have to wait for them to be back.

The bright red numbers come into focus before her, and she blinks at them lightly, before registering that she doesn’t have to wait at all, because it’s _actually_ about thirty minutes _before_ the cotillion is supposed to start, meaning that instead of her friends already being there, they’re probably all still getting ready in Jay and Carlos’ room, away from where she was left resting.

She smiles some at the thought of them all in their suits and dresses, and then she comes to the conclusion that she can’t wait for them to come back to see her; _She_ has to go see _them_.

She has to make sure they’re okay, because everyone faced their fair share of blows in their time on the Isle, and Evie knows that just because she took the hardest hit physically, it doesn’t mean that the others aren’t hurting too.

So, she gives herself a few moments to steel her nerves and, then, a few more to work up the courage and muster up the strength to drag herself into a sitting position.

She grits her teeth and grips the comforter again, as she realizes that the action is a lot easier thought out than done, and she pauses only briefly to bite her tongue because of the pain; A low whimper builds in the back of her throat as she sees faint spots of light swoop and swirl in the air around her.

Her chest begins to rise and fall raggedly, rattling and jarring; Her tongue comes out to wet her lips as she pants from exertion.

She’s not sure how many of her precious minutes slip away as she fights against her pain, but by the time she manages to swing her legs out from under the covers and place her feet onto the floor, she’s breathing heavy and clutching at her side.

So, she pauses for a moment to _try_ to regain the right amount of air within her lungs, but the hyper-awareness of the minutes slipping away from her makes her start to move again through her unsteadiness.

She clenches her jaw tight, so tight that her teeth start to ache, and then she puts more of her weight on her legs and stands.

She lifts her free hand up to support herself against one of the bed’s posts.

“Come on, Evie,” she mutters, breathlessly. “You can do this.”

And ‘this’ she does.

It’s very slow going, because she has to pause a few times during her journey to lean against a wall or two, and because with each new step, her knees start to feel weaker beneath her; But she _does_ still make it to Carlos and Jay’s room eventually.

And, though she’s breathing hard and has to lean, once more, against the doorframe to get the spots, that have now turned black, to stop swooping across her vision, she’s proud of herself; Her hands may be shaking, and her knees might be wobbling lightly, but she’s here.

She’s here, and she can hear muffled voices coming from inside the room, and so she lets a small smile creep onto her lips as she’s proven correct in her assumption that everyone else is here as well.

She shuffles forward a little, breathes in deeply, flinches only slightly at the feeling that twitches through her injury, and then lifts the hand not pressed against her side to knock on the door.

Some shuffling is audible next; The voices hush just a little, and then the handle is being turned and she’s met with the handsomely shocked face of Jay.

“Evie!” he exclaims, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “What—what are you doing here? You need to be in bed. How did you even walk all the way here?”

“Sheer force of will,” she replies, a smirk on her lips but exhaustion in her eyes; Her expression sobers a little. “I had to see if you guys were okay, and no one was in my dorm, so I assumed you all would be here.”

Jay moves forward to support her as she steps towards him, and he doesn’t let go even to close the door behind them as they make their way into the room.

She just leans into him willingly as her eyes sweep across all of her friends’ faces staring back at her, with mixtures of surprise and concern and relief all morphing their features into expressions that make her chest ache.

Ben pulls up a chair for her, and she slumps into it with a grateful smile.

“E, you really should be in bed still,” Carlos says, coming closer, his eyes glinting at her warmly with worry. “Your body really took a hit from all the blood you lost. Plus, when you were cut, the blade caught the bottom of one of your ribs, so it’s bruised pretty badly.”

She tilts her head some; Well, at least that explains why it’s so hard to breathe in.

Her jaw ticks lightly.

“I had to make sure you were all okay,” she repeats, her eyes flitting around to all of them surrounding her. “I know that I wasn’t the only one hurt.”

She takes in the sight of Jay’s bruised knuckles, of Ben’s wrists, reddened from rope burn, of the skin scabbing on Carlos’s right cheekbone, and of how Lonnie favors her left leg over her right.

She tilts her head again, in the other direction, this time pointedly.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” the other girl tells her reassuringly, before she can voice her concern. “We only got surface wounds.”

“Still,” Evie insists. “I don’t just mean physically.”

“I think you still have it worse than us, Eves,” Jay tells her softly, gently, with concern and an unspoken question lying underneath. “Both ways. You should be _resting_.”

He steps forward with outstretched hands that want to help, to guide her back to her room or to his own bed or _anywhere_ better than a stiff chair, but she just lifts one of her own hands to make him stop.

“You know just as well as I do that I could never be able to rest if I didn’t know you all were okay. We’re the same in that sense, and you know it.”

Jay sighs, conceding.

“Still, I’m surprised Mal let you come all the way here by yourself,” Lonnie comments, after a few seconds of settling silence. “Did you spell her into submission or something?”

Evie’s heart stutters harshly against the inside of her smarting ribs, intensifying the pain briefly as her eyebrows knit heavily over her eyes.

She shakes her head lightly to show her confusion.

“I don’t—What are you talking about?”

Now they’re all looking at her with the same sort of bewilderment.

“Mal wasn’t there in the room with me. I woke up alone.”

That bewilderment shifts into something more shocked, and they all share looks with one another before a sense of urgency fills the air.

“She must’ve gone to tell Fairy Godmother the reason why she and Evie weren’t coming to the cotillion,” Carlos says, to Jay, glancing to Ben and Lonnie, and then settling his eyes on Evie again. “Not the real reason,” he assures her. “We decided to tell her that you were sick, and that Mal was taking care of you, because you were contagious and she’s the only one who would be staying in the same room as you. It was the only reasoning we could come up with that was feasible enough to explain why you, of all people, weren’t coming to cotillion.”

Evie nods, a little lightheaded once more.

Carlos turns back to Jay before she can even get a response to form on her tongue.

“If she gets back to the room and sees that Evie isn’t there, she’ll flip.”

Jay nods.

“We’re just going to have to get Evie back, and then get to cotillion a little late.”

Ben steps up from behind her, places a warm hand on her shoulder that somehow grounds her even more so to the reality that’s proving hard to grasp.

“I’ll take her. I have to come in last anyway.”

Jay and Carlos look to each other, share a conversation that’s only spoken through the glints in their eyes.

Evie swallows hurriedly, and leans forward some, ignoring the pain in her side and how it contorts her face unattractively.

“Wait, um… Mal’s _here_? Like, still at school?”

Now they look to her again.

Their faces are confused once more until they slacken with realization.

“Oh,” Carlos breathes out. “Right.”

Evie just shakes her head lightly.

“What? She didn’t go back to the Isle again?”

Evie’s eyes stay on Jay and Carlos—on the two she knows will tell her the truth absolutely, no matter what, no matter the hurt it’ll cause—but she still notices how Lonnie frowns sympathetically out of the corner of her eye, and how Ben squeezes her shoulder comfortingly.

Her heart sinks, and she starts to think that they’re going to be the ones to break her heart again, but then Jay says, “Of course she’s still here, E. She was nearly beside herself when you lost consciousness. She would never leave you in a state like that.”

A breath Evie hadn’t realized she was holding heaves its way out of her chest.

Ben chuckles lowly from behind her.

“I’m actually surprised she hasn’t come in here—.”

They all jump harshly as the doors to the room are suddenly flung open, and Evie’s head whips around in their direction just in time to see a very wide-eyed and frantic looking Mal surging towards them.

“Spoke too soon.”

Those glowing green orbs search everything around them swiftly.

“Have you seen—?”

They then land on Evie; They meet Evie’s own.

Mal halts her forward motion abruptly.

Her shoulders slump visibly, the unnatural brightness of her irises dims back into the natural emerald Evie has always loved so dearly, she breathes out heavily.

“Oh.”

The four other occupants of the room start to move towards the door as Evie and Mal seem to be caught up in one another; Evie doesn’t even hear it close.

“Lucifer, E,” Mal says, bringing a subtly shaking hand up to her forehead as she tries to catch her breath. “You had me so worried.”

Evie frowns.

“I—I’m sorry?” She clears her throat lightly. “I didn’t—um… I mean, in my defense, I didn’t even know you were still here, but, I’m—I’m sorry for worrying you.” She smiles weakly, lifts her arms a little. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

Regret begins to rise within Mal’s eyes so steadily and so surely, that Evie hates herself just slightly for being the cause of it; And sometimes she really wishes she wasn’t _so damn_ _in love_ with the other girl.

Mal shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers. “You’re not.” She swallows with difficulty. “You’re not fine. _None of this_ is fine.”

She runs slender fingers through her hair, in the same way she always does when she’s anxious or _genuinely_ upset, and so Evie, of course, then feels that familiar urge to hold the girl ache through her limbs.

She has to grip onto the arms of her chair to keep herself from going over to her.

“Mal—.”

“ _I feel stupid_ ,” Mal mutters, almost to herself. “I _am_ stupid,” she continues, this time to Evie. “I’m so stupid, and I’m so sorry.” She sniffs. “Evie, I—.”

A sudden sob bursts forth from Mal’s trembling lips, and Evie’s startled by it _just_ enough to forget why she’s resisting her body’s instinct to comfort the girl; So she finds herself standing instantly in the next second without any care for how haphazard she’s moving.  

She takes a step forward, her arms extended and ready to hold the love of her life. But Mal flinches away with a pained expression, so she stills, and watches as the girl battles her demons alone.

She watches as a shuddering breath rattles through Mal’s chest and shakes her entire body with its exit, and then she watches as Mal turns to her with distraught features.

“Evie, I’m so, _so_ sorry,” she breathes out again. “I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to cause you any pain.”

Evie’s jaw ticks.

“The truth is, I don’t deserve you.”

Evie’s mouth opens indignantly.

“That’s not tr—.”

“It’s true,” Mal says. “We know it’s true.” Her voice softens into a tone that’s so resigned, so accepting. “I don’t deserve you, Evie. I’ve _never_ deserved you.” She releases a sigh that cracks against her lips on the way out. “You’ve always been too good for me, and you still are, and I just—I got so _overwhelmed_ by how good you are, and how good this place is. I got overwhelmed by the fact that I’m not good enough to be here, _to_ _be with you_ , and so I just bolted. Like a coward.”

Tears spring up within Evie’s eyes as she sees the ones glistening within Mal’s own, and when one of them falls of its own volition, in solitude, down her cheek, it leaves a burning trail of heat in its wake.

“I bolted,” Mal continues. “Even though I promised to never leave you. And I caused you to get hurt, even though I promised to always protect you.” She releases a mirthless laugh that sends a shiver down Evie’s spine. “And I just _know_ that I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for it all, but I also know that I don’t deserve forgiveness, from myself or from you. I know that I deserve to live with it for the rest of my life. When I go to sleep every night, I’m going to see your blood—on my hands, on your skin, against the white of your shirt, against the rags we used to get it to stop flowing from you—and I’m going to know that it’s my fault, and I’m going to deserve it. When I close my eyes, I’m going to see the image of you—.” She cuts off, as the syllables in her throat seem to form too closely together and choke her up. “I’m going to _remember the way_ you looked when you were lying in Ben’s arms—on your bed—so pale and motionless and just… not _present_. And I’m going to deserve the way that my knees will give out and the way that guilt will boil within my stomach, because I was _selfish_.”

Her eyes meet Evie’s again, and the sight of them makes the taller girl so breathless she thinks she might actually tip over.

“I thought I was going to _lose you_ , Evie. I thought you were going to go out of this world, and that it was my fault. I thought you were going to go out of this world thinking that I _didn’t love you_.”

Another of Evie’s tears falls as she bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

“And that was the most gut-wrenching part of it all, because I just—I love you _so fucking much_ , Evie. I love you so much, and I never know how to express it right, and so I end up hurting you, and you just—you deserve so much better.”

Mal does something, next, that Evie never in her life thought she would; She dissolves into sobs.

Her knees seem to give out from beneath her, and her body curls into itself, and she just lets all of her emotion overwhelm her at once.

Evie is there to wrap her arms around her in less than half a heartbeat.

“Shh,” she tries to soothe, her voice wavering and watery as she brings her hands up to hold the back of Mal’s head to her chest. “Shh, Mal, please. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Mal’s body just begins to shake even harder against her, and so Evie resolves to just hold her until she’s let all of the pent-up anger and sorrow and confusion of the past six months—of her entire life—out of her.

“It’s okay, Mal,” she whispers into the girl’s forehead, right at the edge of her hairline. “I’m okay. I’m here, and I’m with you, always. I’m not going anywhere.”

Mal buries her face deeper into Evie’s shoulder.

“And I forgive you, because I know that being good isn’t easy,” Evie then says, her fingers stroking through the purple locks of Mal’s hair and tracing comforting patterns into the tense muscles of her back. “When we chose to be good six months ago, it didn’t mean that we automatically _were_. Choosing good is something we have to do _every day_. It’s something people who have grown up here their whole lives have to do every day.” She smiles a little into Mal’s warm skin, presses a gentle kiss into the spot where her lips are resting. “Choosing good is never going to be easy, and choosing good is not something we will do all of the time. We’re going to have set backs, and we’re going to be mean and rude sometimes, but that’s _human_.” She tightens her arms around the girl ever so slightly. “We can’t be good all the time, Mal, but we can try. We can try, and we _will_ try, and that’s all anyone can ask of us. That’s all _I’ll_ ever ask of _you_ ; Is that you try.”

Evie pulls away some, just enough to get Mal to do the same; She only has to wait a few seconds before glistening green eyes and tear-stained cheeks are staring back at her once more, and Evie is so blown away by how beautiful and breathtaking Mal is all of the time that she leans forward to press another kiss to one of the girl’s eyebrows.

“As long as you try, as long as you’re willing to try, with me, I’ll never leave you and I’ll never let you leave again. You _do_ deserve me, and you _do_ deserve love, and I will give it to you every day if you’ll let me.” She reaches up to brush a few stray strands of hair behind Mal’s ear before using her fingertips to trace the curves of Mal’s cheekbones. “You just have to _let me_ , M. You have to let me love you, and let me in, so that you never feel like you have to run to get away from it all.”

Mal’s bottom lip wobbles, and Evie _so_ wants to kiss it to make its sadness go away, but she doesn’t; She waits for Mal to make the next move, to meet her in the middle.

Some moments pass, where they’re just watching each other, where the emotion in the air is palpable, and then Mal is exhaling shakily, and pressing their foreheads together.

She swallows thickly, her eyes closed, and nods a little, her nose just barely brushing against Evie’s own.

“I want to continue to try, with you. Always with you.”

Evie smiles, bright and blinding in a way that almost feels foreign after so much turmoil.

She pushes her nose against Mal’s some more.

“Good,” she whispers. “Then it’s settled.”

Mal giggles breathlessly, and her eyelashes flutter open so that she can see Evie’s eyes more properly.

“I love you,” she says quietly, more earnestly, less loud than before but more meaningful somehow; She kisses the tip of Evie’s nose. “I’m sorry.” Then she kisses the top of Evie’s cheekbone. “I love you.” She kisses the corner of Evie’s mouth.

Evie’s grin relaxes into one that’s softer, more adoring and endeared.

She turns her face, just so, and connects their lips, finally, after far too long.

Mal hums happily into her mouth; Evie’s hands come up to frame the structure of Mal’s jaw, and her fingers tangle within Mal’s hair, and she doesn’t even care that her side starts to ache as she straightens her back to push herself closer to the other girl, because never is she going to act ungrateful for this again.

Time passes—seconds, minutes, hours; Evie doesn’t pay it any mind.

They only pull back when their lungs are practically screaming for air.

Their foreheads come back together, their smiles return.

“Come on,” Mal says after a while, gently. “You need to get back in bed. You’re still recovering.”

Evie nods easily.

“Can we just stay here? I’m sure the boys can sleep in the same bed for the night.”

Mal nods too then.

“Yeah, of course, Princess. Did you think I was gonna let you walk all of the way back to our dorms? You’re not making that trip again for a while. Trust me.”

Evie chuckles lowly and moves towards Carlos’s bed just behind them; It’s only when Mal moves to the other side and begins to pull back the comforter that she sees the bright blue article of clothing the other girl is wearing.

“Is that my sweater?” she asks, cocking her head to the side questioningly.

Mal glances down, and maybe it’s a trick of the moon’s rays streaming in through the window, but Evie almost swears that she sees a faint tinting of pink rise along the back of Mal’s neck.

“Um—yeah,” the other girl mutters, her head ducked a little. “I put it on after we got you into a stable condition. I just—I wanted to have a piece of you closer to me as we waited for you to wake up. It smells like you, and so it felt like you were with me, even when you weren’t.”

Evie almost starts to cry again at the softly-spoken admission, and so she just scoots closer to Mal in the bed, as carefully as she can to avoid discomfort to her ribs.

She wraps her arms around the girl’s waist again and rests her head against her chest, reveling in the steady _thump, thump, thumping_ of the heart beneath her ear.

She reaches for the girl’s hand, links their fingers, and then brings Mal’s to her lips.

“You can keep it,” she whispers quietly. “So you can always have me with you when I’m not actually with you.”

Mal squeezes her just barely.

“Besides, _my clothes look good on you_. I wouldn’t mind seeing this look more often.”

Mal laughs, real and loving and present, and Evie knows then, as she smiles up at the other girl, that they’re going to be alright.

Just as they always are.


	2. I Love You, And Every Little Thing That You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Number 41 from the 50 dialogue prompts pls ! Maybe Evie has a panic attack and Mal is there to comfort her or vice versa? Whatever you feel works best! 
> 
> 41: "I feel like I can't breathe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! I hope you like it! I don’t know what I’m in such an angsty mood with my pieces lately, but also I do know because angst is my specialty. It’s soft angst though, so there shouldn’t be any crying. Thank you so much for the prompt :)
> 
> Warning: Mention of minor/borderline OCD

Mal has never met a person who stresses the way that Evie does; She’s never even found someone who comes _close_.

Evie is a _perfectionist_. Every detail of whatever she’s concerned about needs to be perfect and practical and in its proper place.

Evie is someone who will reread things over and over to make sure she understands what’s being learned.

Evie is someone who will ask for the directions she’s been given to be repeated just to make sure she doesn’t forget a single step that needs to be taken.

Evie is someone who will stay up for the entirety of one weekend just to be sure she’s studied the material of a test thoroughly.

Evie is someone who will repeat her actions and go over her plans multiple times to ensure that the results of them are flawless and as intended.

And, yes, Evie’s need for such procedures and protocols is something that confuses Mal sometimes, because Evie could do everything in one try and have it be perfect, but it’s also something that Mal doesn’t mind.

It’s something that Mal has _never_ minded, because she knows that all of it is a result of the girl growing up with the Evil Queen’s demands and expectations weighing on her slender shoulders.

It’s something that Mal _will never_ mind, because she knows why Evie has to be so sure about everything; She knows that Evie has to be so sure about everything because when they lived on the Isle, one mess up caused her to be locked away in that one _particularly_ _cold_ and damp closet in the corner of her room.

Mal knows that if the halls weren’t clean, if the clothes weren’t washed, if her make-up wasn’t applied perfectly, or if there was too much dust on a table or chair or door handle, Evie would be starved and yelled at and locked away for days.

And Mal can _still_ remember how sunken Evie’s cheekbones always were, after her mother had denied her food for a week.

Mal can _still_ remember the darkness of the tear-stained mascara that would surround the brown of Evie’s eyes so fully, after she was finally let out of the castle once more.

Mal can _still_ remember the bruises she’d find on Evie’s fair skin, in places always covered by clothing—because there were never to be any flaws showing outwardly—from objects the Evil Queen had thrown whenever she slipped into the more blank and blurred state of mind that belonged to her growing madness.

Mal can still remember it _all_ , and so whenever Evie stresses over the way a dress is stitched just slightly off the seam, or whenever Evie starts to tidy up the room even though there isn’t a thing out of place, she just smiles softly and takes a hold of Evie’s hands and tells her that it’s okay, that her mother isn’t here anymore, that things don’t always have to be perfect.

She kisses away the words of worry and concern from Evie’s lips; She touches gently at Evie’s cheeks until the girl’s frantic eyes stop looking around for the woman she so hates, but still loves, to pop up and berate her and looks at her instead.

She tells her she loves her, and that she’s here, and that she’s the only one that’s here.

And when that _doesn’t_ _work_ , she just lets Evie fix what she feels like she needs to fix, and she has her arms open and ready for when Evie exhausts herself and needs to fall into them.

She rocks the girl back and forth when she whispers, “ _I feel like I can’t breathe_ ,” into her neck, and she rubs soothing circles into the girl’s back when she continues with a muttering of, “I just want her weight off of me. Off of my chest. I want to feel like she’s not watching my every move for flaws.”

She says, “I know, baby,” so gently and so genuinely, her lips brushing a blue hairline reassuringly. “It’ll get better. You’ll be free of her with time, and then she won’t ever be able to hurt you again. I promise.”

And when Evie sniffs lightly, lifts her teary eyes up to look at her more fully, and furrows her eyebrows just barely to ask, “And until then?”

Mal just smiles again, brushes a few stray strands of hair from the girl’s face, frames her jaw with her hand and runs her thumb along the swell of her cheekbone and tells her, “And until then, I’m going to be here to help you fight your way out of her grasp. I’ll be here to hold you when you feel like you’ve fallen too hard back into the way things were, and I won’t ever leave. I won’t ever let you feel alone again. I promise.”

Then Evie grins at her as well, tired and a little weak and weary but just as breathtaking as always, and she leans forward to press a loving kiss to Mal’s nose, her eyelashes fluttering against Mal’s own.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know,” Evie whispers, earnest and true.

Mal tilts her head, says, “And you’re my favorite person on this planet. On any planet there is, was, and ever will be,” and then she kisses Evie with all of the emotion she wasn’t able to articulate.

She knows that she’ll never fall out of love with the way that Evie always pulls her closer, fingers tangled in her hair and palms pressed against her cheeks.

She knows that she’ll never fall out of love with _Evie_ , and every single aspect that there is about her.

They’re meant to be; Forever and always, and maybe even a little longer after that.

That’s just the way it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr is Kimnihart if you wish to read this there, or send me prompts!


	3. A Little Carried Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 29 from the 100 prompts with just some cute fluffy malvie trying hard to convince one another that sleep is actually a thing™
> 
> 29: "When was the last time you slept?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope that it's to your liking! :))

When Evie walks into the dorm room she shares with her girlfriend, Mal, she is _not_ expecting to see said girlfriend in the state she’s presented with—Which is to mean, a state of complete disarray and disorganization.

At first glance, Mal’s position is normal; She’s lying on top of her bed, on her stomach, with her elbows supporting the weight of her head in her hands.

Her hair has been haphazardly thrown up into a messy, violet bun, and many of the strands have seemed to have decided to be uncooperative, as they stick out every which way of their own volition, but none of this is too entirely odd or out of the ordinary for Mal, and so none of this is what has Evie so surprised.

_No_ ; What has Evie so surprised is the complete clutter and collection of books, papers, pencils, and pens strewn about atop the surface of Mal’s bed around her—strewn about the table in the center of the room and upon some of the floor by her bed as well.

Most of the books are open, with sticky notes pasted to their pages and with words scribbled down and underlined hurriedly upon them in the familiar handwriting that Evie would recognize as Mal’s anywhere; A lot of the papers she sees appear to have been balled up and tossed away haphazardly, without care for where they landed.

Her eyebrows knit together over her gaze, which is still set steadily on the top of her girlfriend’s head, which hasn’t raised to look at her despite the sound of her entrance into the room.

She clears her throat a little.

“Mal?” she calls, calmly and curiously.

That same purple head of hair snaps up to finally direct its owner’s eyes to her, and then Evie almost gasps at the sight of the dark bags that puff out and wrinkle underneath them.

“E,” Mal breathes out, her voice hoarse; She’s the one to clear her throat this time. “Evie, hey.”

She moves to push herself up and off of her stomach, but her options for where she has to go are limited, and so she just opts for sitting upon her legs, her hands on her knees and her feet underneath her bottom.

“I thought you weren’t coming back from the Scholastic Decathlon trip until Sunday.”

Evie’s eyebrows furrow more deeply, and the concern in her chest grows more intense.

“M, it _is_ Sunday,” Evie says slowly, stepping closer as she lets the door shut behind her.

She watches carefully as Mal’s nose crinkles in the way it always does when she’s confused.

“It is?”

Evie nods, eyeing the various objects of clutter once more as she tries to make her way around them and to the table to set her things down.

“Yeah,” she answers slowly, turning on her heel once her hands are free and beginning to make her way over to the other girl.

“Wow. I _really_ must’ve lost track of time when studying for exams.”

Mal lifts a hand to her forehead, looking, if possible, even more overwhelmed with her current situation; Evie continues to make her way closer.

“M, _when was the last time you slept?_ ” she asks, just as she’s almost at the edge of Mal’s bed.

Mal glances down, and then up, in thought, her starkly white top row of teeth biting down on the soft pink of her bottom lip. She blinks a few times, a little blearily and not all there.

“Um, I took that nap just before you left,” she mutters, quietly, almost to herself. “And then—And then I just remember studying.”

Her green eyes come back up to meet Evie’s brown just in time to watch the surprise overtake and widen them.

“Mal—You—I left Friday night!” Evie exclaims incredulously. “You mean you’ve been studying since then, without sleeping or eating? You can’t be serious.”

Mal ducks her head a little, scratches at the back of her neck nervously, won’t meet Evie’s gaze again, which of course then makes the taller girl’s entire demeanor soften.

“Well, I mean—You’ve been wanting me to take my courses more seriously, and so I promised myself that I’d study while you were gone, but then I just—lost track of time. I’m sorry.”

Evie sighs; She makes it to the edge of Mal’s bed, presses her thighs against the side of the mattress and reaches out to touch Mal’s cheek lightly.

She waits until her girlfriend is looking at her again before smiling gently, reassuring and gentle.

“Don’t apologize,” she tells her, her knuckles brushing down Mal’s face with a touch that’s feather-light. “I just—You have to take care of yourself, honey. Yes, I want you to take your studies more seriously, but I never want you to sacrifice your health for them. Your wellbeing is far more important than any test you will ever have to take.”

Mal tilts her head, leans into Evie’s hand instinctively and consciously all at once.

She nods.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “You’re right.”

Evie grins teasingly.

“Of course I am. When have I ever been wrong?”

Mal opens her mouth; “Well, _actually_ —.”

“I wouldn’t let your sleep-deprivation speak for you right now, Mal.”

The shorter girl laughs lightly, and Evie’s heart beats just a little bit more quickly at the sound; Just as it always does.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you to sleep. We can share my bed and clean up this mess in the morning.”

Mal just nods tiredly before taking Evie’s offered hand and assistance in getting off of her bed.

And when they’re finally lying underneath the comforter and sheets of Evie’s own, with their arms wrapped comfortably around one another, Mal is only able to get a slurred and sluggish, “I love you,” out of her lips before her eyes are shut and she’s been sent off into blissful unconsciousness.

Evie chuckles lowly.

“I love you too, crazy,” she says, pressing a lingering kiss to Mal’s forehead just before she herself shuts her eyes.

She falls asleep not long after; Dreams of green eyes and soft lips await her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also posted on my Tumblr: Kimnihart. Feel free to read it there, or send me prompts there.


	4. Tell Me I'm Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: could you do 36 and 43 off the list of 50 for malvie?? The malvie fic you posted earlier was beautiful btw, I was SOBBING
> 
> 36: "Tell me I'm wrong."
> 
> 43: "Are you drunk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I can definitely do those for you! Thank you so much for the prompt, and thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy! <3

“Okay,” Mal whispers. “ _Goodnight_ , _Ben_.”

“Wait. Mal, I—.”

The door is shut in his face, quietly but firmly, in the next second, before he can finish his thought, and Mal waits until she can hear his disappointed footsteps receding from the room before she breathes out a heavy sigh of relief and lets herself turn to slump against the wood at her back.

Her eyelids flutter shut and her head falls against the door with a dull _thump_ , as she releases a low groan of frustration and then another sigh.

Just briefly, she wonders when their dates became so exhausting, but then a giggle sounds out lightly through the air, suddenly, and the sound of it snaps Mal’s attention to the source immediately.

Her heart jumps slightly with adrenaline as her eyes try to blink away their blurriness, and it isn’t until she meets the brown eyes already looking at her that she feels the organ calm down some.

“Oh my— _Evie_ ,” she breathes out, bringing a hand to her chest weakly. “Announce your presence or something. Shit. I almost had a heart attack.”

Evie laughs again.

“This is my room too, Mal,” she answers with a grin. “And I was here first. So, it’s _you_ who should announce _your_ presence—which you did, with all that moaning and groaning.”

Mal feels her face contort into a scowl at Evie’s words as she sticks her tongue out childishly in the other girl’s direction; She begins to make her way to her own bed.

A few moments pass in silence, where Mal assumes that Evie has gone back to whatever she was doing previously, and where some of the usual tension in her shoulders seeps out of her, mercifully.

The dull but consistent throbbing of pain just behind her eyes starts to let up _just barely_ , and with its slow relief from her forehead, she feels like she can see a little better.

“How was your date?” Evie asks then, quietly, uncharacteristically detached.

Mal shrugs.

“It was okay, I guess.”

Evie hums lightly from behind her, and, so, she just continues to move about the room to get more comfortable, knowing that no reply was meant to have been said to the sound.

She removes her jacket and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs at their table, walks into their shared closet, changes into some sweats and a t-shirt, and then comes back to climb on top of her bed, a book in hand, ready to be read.

She’s _just_ turned to her previously marked position in the pages when Evie speaks up again, thoughtfully, too thoughtfully to be as casual as she sounds; “You know, I don’t understand why you don’t just break up with him.”

Mal’s ears start to ring dully.

Every single ounce of unease and uncomfortableness comes rushing back to her body, making her go completely rigid and making her throat close up a little.

Which is fine, because she scarcely allows herself to breathe anyway, out of the fear that Evie will be able to read her thoughts through the shallowness she’s sure her breaths would come in.

She mutters a choked, “What?” as her eyes continue to stare down, unseeingly, at the blur of black ink before her. Her fingers grip the edges of the book until her knuckles turn white.

Evie continues, either neglecting notice of Mal’s sudden shift in demeanor or choosing to ignore it altogether.

“I mean, you’re not happy with him, are you?”

Mal’s jaw tightens; Two still seconds of paralysis pass, and then the edge of her bed is dipping down with the added weight of Evie sitting upon it.

Mal closes her eyes.

“Mal—.”

“Why wouldn’t I be happy with him?” she asks lowly; A forced chuckle pushes its way past her lips, and it feels wrong coming from her throat, too raw, too ragged. “He’s perfect.”

She can feel Evie’s gaze on her face. She doesn’t reopen her eyes out of fear that it will bore _into them_ and _through_ _her_.

“That doesn’t mean he’s perfect for you, though, and you know it.”

Mal releases more air through her nose, a long, shaky exhale of her pent-up air, and she finally works up the nerve to look Evie in the eyes, just as she continues to work her jaw.

“He is,” she insists, though she feels like anything she says to Evie at this point, that isn’t the absolute truth, will be too transparent to pass by any of the girl’s lie detection abilities. “Or—Or at least he’s _trying_ to be. That’s what matters.”

Evie scoffs, and Mal glares lightly.

“Maybe at first,” Evie says, standing to grab onto one of the banisters of Mal’s bed and swinging her body around it loosely so that she’s then standing at the _end_ of Mal’s bed. “Maybe in the beginning that’s what matters. But after eight months of being together, trying to fit together, when you know you don’t, is just sad and will continue to make both of you miserable.”

Mal feels an irrational sense of anger rise to tint her cheeks pink; Her eyes flash into their glowing green briefly.

Evie starts to walk away casually, as if she hasn’t just reached into Mal’s heart and pulled all of her traitorous thoughts into the light.

“Okay, look. I know that Ben and I aren’t perfect. He knows it too. But, you know what, we _are_ _happy_. We’re happy, and we try to be the best we can be for one another, and that’s what relationships are about.” She turns her nose up a little. “You have no right to be saying this to me.”

“Oh, but don’t I?” Evie asks, whirling around with her arms spread out wide. “I mean, I’m your best friend, right? Doesn’t that warrant an opinion or two from time to time?”

Mal watches as Evie moves towards her own bed, and then she watches as the girl takes up a bottle of amber liquid from where it had been resting against her pillows. Realization washes over Mal’s mind in the next second, as Evie tilts her head back to pour of some of the drink down her throat.

She sits up more fully, moving to the edge of her mattress, and allowing her feet to rest on the floor.

Evie pulls the tip of the bottle from her moist lips before wiping at her mouth with a satisfied sigh. Mal leans forward, concern beginning to churn deeply within her stomach.

“Evie,” she starts. “ _Are you…_ _drunk_?”

Evie laughs lightly with a tilting of her head, her blue locks falling against the skin of her forehead and casting shadows over the brown of her eyes, making them feel more omniscient as they darken.

“Maybe,” she concedes, a glint reappearing in her irises for a fleeting moment. “My words have never been more sober though.”

A cold sort of shiver runs down the length of Mal’s spine as she realizes that the girl is right—that she’s telling the truth.

Because, you see, Evie’s _never_ been a sloppy drunk. She holds her liquor remarkably well for how small she is, and Mal knows that it’s because the Evil Queen’s twisted lessons on the proper ways to stay composed covered how to handle and present oneself when intoxicated.

Whenever Evie is drunk, her eyes remain clear, her posture remains proper, her words never slur. The _only thing_ that is ever noticeably different whenever Evie has been drinking is _what_ she says. Alcohol is like her personal version of a truth gummy.

Evie would never say any of this to Mal while she’s sober, and she never _has_ said it while she’s been sober, but she’s been thinking it. She’s been keeping it locked up, locked away.

“How long have you been wanting to say this to me?” Mal asks, abruptly, despite her fear of the answer.

The quiet behind her question lingers for a moment, before Evie whispers breathlessly, “Since the beginning.”

Mal starts to open her mouth again, to question, “The beginning of what,” but she feels like she already knows, so she closes it once more, presses her lips tightly together and clenches her jaw.

“Why didn’t you say anything then? Why _now_?” tumbles from her tongue instead, but, even then, she feels like she knows the answer, and the thought of that makes her heart start to beat just a little bit harder against her ribs.

Evie just looks at her, watches the way her anxiety shows in the stiff bobbing of her throat as she swallows, watches her in a way that’s so piercing even through the alcohol, as if the alcohol has made her see things more clearly; Maybe it has—maybe it always has, and that’s why she always sounds more sober when she’s not.

She smiles, sad and soft, a gleam in her eyes that seems to let Mal glimpse some sort of deep _hurting_ within her.

“Well, in the beginning, you were still so convinced that he was your happiness, M,” she answers quietly. “And for a while, I thought that maybe he was too. After all, he’s the one you chose good for. _He’s_ the one that showed you what love feels like.”

Evie’s voice cracks harshly across some of her syllables, and Mal feels a sharp ache reverberate through her chest. She has to fight every urge, that suddenly arises within her muscles, to not get up and bring the girl into her arms.

“ _He’s_ the one that showed you all of the things you’d missed out on when we were living on the Isle; So, of course, at first, I thought you were a match made in Heaven, just as everyone else did.” Evie steps closer, just barely, her eyes searching Mal’s features for something that the shorter girl isn’t sure she has. “But then I started to notice that your smiles were too _forced_. Your actions and touches were too stiff. Your eyes weren’t shining like I know they can.”

Evie laughs, watery and weak, self-deprecating and ashamed.

“But I still didn’t _do_ anything, because _you_ didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin your chance at happiness. If you were convinced, then so was I. It was as simple as that.”

Mal glances down to her hands as tears spring up to burn her eyes.

“But—I don’t think you’re convinced anymore. I think you’re now just _trying_ to convince yourself that Ben’s the one that will make you happy, because you feel like being with Ben is safe and stable. I think that now you know that he’s not the one for you, but you’re too scared to end it, because he’s been such a constant in your time here in Auradon.”

Evie pauses. She seems to wait for Mal to give her some sort of reaction, some reply, but Mal can’t seem to make her heavy tongue do anything.

“But you know, maybe I’m wrong,” Evie whispers next. Mal’s eyes finally come up to the other girl’s again. “Maybe I’m looking into things too deeply.” She tilts her head some. “ _Tell me I’m wrong_ , M. Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll never bring any of this up again.”

Mal’s bottom lip wobbles as her jaw trembles. A tear slips down her cheek so abruptly that she wouldn’t be surprised to see the red streak of its path burned into her skin if she looked in a mirror.

She stares at Evie’s blurred figure through the sheen of her tears, and she blinks at the blurred lines of Evie’s face to try to get them to come into focus more fully.

“Tell me I’m wrong, M,” Evie repeats softly, stepping just close enough for Mal to feel her body heat.

One silent second.

“I can’t,” Mal whispers then, a gentle sob pushing up against the lump in her throat. “I _can’t_.”

Evie nods, as if she was expecting the answer, and then she’s suddenly there, in Mal’s space, wrapping her arms around Mal’s shoulders as the girl leans into her willingly, with the departure of her remaining resistance to her emotion.

“I thought I could love him,” she cries into Evie’s chest, her arms moving to wind around Evie’s waist and pull her closer. “I thought that he was the one that I could be happy with, or that I could at least _make_ myself be happy with him, but I just— _can’t_.”

Evie nods again, from where her chin is resting against the top of Mal’s head, her fingers tangled within the violet strands there, stroking soothingly against her scalp.

“I know, sweetie,” she says. “It’s okay.”

Mal swallows thickly, shaking her head and pulling back some, just enough to be able to look up into Evie’s eyes.

“It’s not. It’s _not_ okay. We’ve been through so much, and he’s done so much for me—for _all_ of us. How could I possibly end it now?”

Evie’s eyebrows knit closer together, a fierceness comes into her voice.

“You are _not_ obligated to stay with him just because he’s done nice things for you and stuck by you in some hard times. You never asked for him to do that, and, though, yes, he’s amazing for doing them, you don’t owe him your life or happiness because of them.”

Another of Mal’s tears falls, and Evie brings her thumb to the cheekbone it rests upon to wipe it away with a gentleness that’s almost overwhelming.

“I’m scared,” Mal admits, in a voice that’s hardly above a whisper. “What if there’s something wrong with me? I mean, there’s no reason for me _not_ to love him. He’s kind, and he’s gentlemanly, and he never raises his voice or a hand to me. He surprises me with gifts and getaways, and he compliments me any time he sees me. He gives me all sorts of reasons to love him, but I just—I don’t, at least, not in the way that he needs, that I need.”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Mal,” Evie tells her, with conviction and certainty. “You can’t _help_ your feelings.” She allows her hand to cup Mal’s jaw. “It doesn’t matter if someone is the _absolute epitome_ of the person you think is perfect for you, if the spark isn’t there, if there aren’t butterflies when they look at you or touch you, if there isn’t a constant feeling of that selfless want for the other to be happy no matter what, no matter who they’re with, in your heart, then it isn’t love. It’s just as simple and as complicated as that.”

Mal watches as another of those sad smiles comes back to lift the corners of Evie’s lips, and then she allows her eyelids to slide shut as Evie then brings those lips down to press against her hairline lightly.

A familiar feeling of warmth blooms within her chest—the kind of warmth that always tingles through her nerves and down her fingers whenever Evie’s skin is touching hers. The kind of warmth that always rises to her cheeks whenever Evie’s eyes catch her own staring from across the room. The kind of warmth that fills her stomach whenever Evie smiles at her, or laughs, or pulls her just that much closer whenever they’re hugging or standing by one another.

The kind of warmth that she _should_ feel for Ben, she realizes.

She looks back up to Evie breathlessly.

“And how do you know so much of what love feels like?” she asks, her head lighter.

Something flashes within Evie’s irises, something that Mal has seen many times before.

Something she’s seen during the late nights of watching movies together, when Evie turns her gaze away from the screen and onto her instead. Something she’s seen during the day time, when they’re walking down the hallway and Mal is telling a story and Evie just tilts her head and _listens_ so intently to what she’s saying. Something she’s seen during _all_ of the turmoil and chaos and life-threatening situations they’ve experienced, when neither of them really knew if they’d make it out together or not and so their eyes met and they said all they couldn’t say out loud through their stares.

It’s the _same_ _something_ that she’s noticed dim the light in Evie’s eyes whenever she’s standing by Ben, or hugging Ben, or letting Ben kiss her on the cheek. It’s the same something that always makes her step away from the feeling of Ben’s large hand on her hip, but the same something that always makes her feel safe when it’s Evie’s hand in the same place.

It’s something that she’s had so much time to recognize, but so little courage to let herself do so.

“I figured it out through some trial and error,” Evie jokes, lightly but not really light at all.

Mal breathes in shakily; Evie’s hand feels almost _too_ warm against where it still rests upon Mal’s cheek.

“And when you figured it out,” Mal begins, her hands moving some to rest against Evie’s hips, her fingers brushing just barely against the exposed skin under the hem of her t-shirt. “Did it feel like a veil had suddenly been lifted from over your eyes? Like everything that had never made sense before suddenly did?”

Evie’s throat bobs a little as she swallows; The nod she gives Mal in response is barely there.

“Yeah,” she answers then, breathily. “Something like that.”

Mal smiles, full and real and so, _so_ different from the ones she’s gotten used to plastering onto her face to convince the public that she’s fine.

“Good,” she says, moving to stand and, subsequently, prompting Evie to take a few steps back to give her room. “Because I think that means that I’ve figured it out too.”

Mal now takes a few steps _forward_ ; She hears Evie’s breath hitch against the back of her throat, and her grin widens.

She looks up into the dark irises that she’s known her whole life, that have always been a constant, even before Auradon—that she’s always wanted to protect and look into and see shining with happiness, no matter what and no matter who else they looked at.

She’s sees them looking back at her, with that same shine, with that same something that she can now identify and relate to the feeling in her chest.

“If I kiss you now, will you let me?”

A hint of a grin comes back to Evie’s lips, and Mal is so relieved to not see any of that earlier sadness tainting its beauty.

Evie nods again, a mischievous gleam to her eyes.

“You know,” she whispers, leaning in until their lips are just mere inches apart, their breaths mixing and mingling together in the barely there space between them. “If you do it fast enough, I might even kiss back.”

That’s all the encouragement that Mal needs. She closes the distance, meets Evie in the middle of the space she’s been standing in for the majority of their lives.

Their mouths mold together in the most perfect way Mal has ever known two mouths to do.

Evie’s hands shift so that she can re-tangle her fingers within Mal’s long hair just as Mal’s fingers grip just _that much_ tighter to Evie’s hips. This positioning lasts only a few seconds before they slip underneath the fabric of the taller girl’s shirt and ghost across the toned muscles of her abdomen.

Evie exhales unsteadily through her nose as Mal’s palms come to rest at the level of her belly-button, her cool fingertips pressing into the warm skin there firmly yet faintly all at once; Mal grins into her mouth.

She’s beginning to grow too breathless; Her chest starts to ache and beg her for air, but she’s so reluctant to break the connection that it ends up being Evie who pulls away first, with a few more lingering but shorter pecks placed upon Mal’s lips before she ends up pressing their foreheads together.

Mal’s eyes flutter open to meet Evie’s own, which are already looking back at her, which have _always been_ looking back at her.

“Wow,” she whispers, her green orbs flitting back and forth between Evie’s brown, and then everywhere else in between.

Evie giggles in response, a lighthearted, _happy_ sound that makes butterflies erupt within Mal’s stomach.

“Yeah, ‘ _wow_ ,’” she teases gently with a grin, trailing a fingertip down the curve of Mal’s jaw.

“I’ve never been kissed like that before,” Mal admits next, softly, a small blush rising to tint her cheeks pink.

Evie’s expression softens understandingly, her fingers tilt Mal’s face up some more so that she can have a better view of it.

“Well,” she begins, her tone gentle and genuine. “I would be happy to kiss you like that as many times as you’d like. As long as you’ll let me.” She bites down on her bottom lip lightly for just a moment. “I _know_ that I can’t take you on spontaneous trips to different kingdoms and countries. I know I can’t promise you a royal title and a throne, or great riches and reputation. I know that I can’t promise you _a lot of things_ that others can.” She smiles again, soft and adoring. “But I also know that I _can_ promise you that I will always be by your side, just as I always have been. I _can_ promise you that I will always be there when you need me, and that I’ll be there even when you don’t. I _can_ promise that I’ll never let you go to bed angry at me, and that I won’t ever let myself go to bed angry at you. I can promise to fix your coffee the way that you like, and massage your shoulders when you get tired, and walk you to the classes we don’t share together. I can promise to bring you strawberries on bad days to make them good, and on good days to make them great.”

Mal chuckles tearfully before sniffing and reaching up to take one of Evie’s hands from off of her face and into her own; She entwines their fingers as easily as ever and brings the back of the other girl’s hand to her lips.

“I promise you, that, if you’ll let me, I will love you so strongly and so wholly, you’ll forget all about the kind that we missed out on when we were growing up, and I promise you that I won’t ever stop.”

Mal sniffles again, and Evie reaches up to catch another of her tears before it can fall fully.

A few seconds pass, and then Mal is closing the distance between them again and pressing her lips to Evie’s in a much slower, much softer kiss than the last.

Evie smiles, and so, of course, she does too.

She pulls away slowly, just barely.

“You’ve always been the one, you know,” she whispers. “It wasn’t Ben that showed me what love feels like, it was you; It’s _always_ been you. Every hug you gave me when I didn’t know I needed it. Every blanket or scrap of food you shared. Every tear of the fabric and of the skin you’ve stitched up for me. You’ve _always_ shown me love, Eves. And just as I’ve always had you there beside me, you’ve always had me too. You’ve always had me, and you still have me. For as long as you want me, you’ll have me. I’m yours.”

Evie grins.

“How does forever sound?”

Mal chuckles, leaning forward some more to nuzzle their noses together.

“Like a plan.”

Evie giggles then herself, and Mal hasn’t felt this light in _months_ , and though she knows tomorrow will bring a painful conversation and a lot of truth coming out, she decides to just revel in the feeling of the other girl’s warmth and body and being so close to her own.

They’ll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes.

For now, they’re going to just be as they were always meant to be.

_Together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr is Kimnihart if you wish to read this there, or send me prompts!

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is flairfatale if you wish to send prompts there!


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